𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 | 𝟏𝟖+

XLIV

F A L L O N

"You check in and out of my heart like a hotel. She must be perfect, oh well, I hope you both go to hell."

. . .

I can feel Nicholas pulling away from me when he tucks himself back in.

Even though I was feeling high just a few moments ago, I can feel myself crashing back down.

Is all of this worth the sadness I feel afterward?

I quickly stand up, not liking the heavy feeling that's taking over me. The heat spreads down my body in panic and anger.

Looking down, I pull my pants back up and put my bra on, then my sweater. Adjusting my hair a bit, I take a deep breath and take my belongings.

"I'll be leaving, then," I mutter. But before I can leave, I feel a tug on my wrist. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Nicholas has a frown on his face.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?"

I shake my head. "No, everything's fine."

His features harden. "Don't lie to me, Fallon."

When I don't reply, he stands up and takes my chin between his fingers. "You're hurt," he states.

I swallow, hating that my emotions are getting the best of me.

"Because I know you'll go back to her after this, and I just can't take it anymore. It hurts. So fucking much. And I keep on fucking doing this to myself."

And it hurts so badly. It shouldn't. And I realize it's because I'm in love with him. I'm in love with the man who's engaged to my best friend.

I take a step back, wanting to scream out of frustration. I'm mad at myself for always going back to him. I'm mad at Nicholas for not leaving Stella.

I'm mad at both of us for continuing to do this.

"This isn't fair, Nicholas," I breathe, and glance back up at him. "Not to Stella. Not to me, and not to you, because you keep on lying to yourself."

When he doesn't respond, I continue, "Do you even love her? Why the fuck did you ask her to marry you, if you don't plan on being a good and faithful husband anyway?"

He clenches his jaw together and rakes a hand through his hair.

"I asked her to marry me, yes, which I realize is a mistake."

"Then why do it in the first place? Were you keen on breaking her heart? Have you always been careless towards her feelings?"

He shakes his head and leans against the edge of his desk, letting out a breath.

"I met Stella four years ago," he begins, "we were both attending an event and we became friends. Good friends. We hung out a lot of times and it was nice having her around."

Hearing him talk about her, is like having someone wrapping their fingers around my throat and squeeze.

I didn't come here to find out how he fell in love with her. But I want to know. I need to know.

"It was a platonic friendship at first. But then everything happened so quickly. We both got drunk and slept with each other. When Stella confessed the next morning that she didn't regret it, I found myself not regretting it, either."

I don't know why his words feel like a knife digging into my chest, but it does. It hurts. Because the images that are painting themselves in my head, are taunting me.